


i'll crawl home to her

by gendernoncompliant



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Death, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Relationship, i've only beaten the Hades fight once lol, spoilers for the surface
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26782204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gendernoncompliant/pseuds/gendernoncompliant
Summary: Than breaks the silence with a frustrated sound. “If you won’t stand and fight then you’re wasting my time,” he snaps. The prickly tone disguises something deeper. “Unlike some of us, I have a job to do.”Zagreus doesn’t ask him to stay. The two of them have long since unlearned how to navigate asking for what they want (if they were ever any good at it to begin with). He nods and runs his fingers over the cool, Elysian grass.“It’s greener on the surface,” he says. His own words startle a laugh from him. “Literally greener on the other side.”
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 261





	i'll crawl home to her

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened due to what I Think was mostly a random coincidence of my playthrough, which was that after I got to the surface for the first time, it took me AGES to run into Than again [and then when I finally did, he rushed out of the chamber without talking to me] and I just wanted them to talk about what happened gotdang it!!!
> 
> **previously titled "thrown in the ground (it just isn't fair)" -- Swapped to this lyric from Hozier's "Work Song" because I just wasn't happy with the old title.

Zagreus catches up to Thanatos in Elysium.

‘Catches up’ might be the wrong term. Thanatos only ever appears when he wants to be found. Since last they spoke, Zagreus has met eight brutal ends—more than one of them at the hands of his own father. But more important than that, Zagreus has breathed in the open air. He’s seen a sunrise.

One sunrise in an eternity of endless night.

One sunrise before he was swallowed again by the Styx and spat back up in the great hall of his father’s house. It was harder, that time, to crawl from the wine dark depths. He’d hoped to find Thanatos waiting for him.

He’d kept hoping for it each and every time after that.

In the cool light of Elysium, Than looks almost spectral—like the shades that haunt every corner of the Underworld. Zagreus wonders what he might look like under the sun. (Of course, Than can come and go as he pleases—has known the light of day a thousand times and yet still chooses to languish his eternity beneath. Zagreus tries not to resent him for it.)

“Zagreus,” Than greets him, clipped and professional.

The last time Zag sank into the Styx, it was with his father’s trident through his chest. Truthfully—for the first time in what he assumes is a very, very long time—he’s tired.

He does not raise his blade.

Before Than can start the timer on their little contest, Zagreus turns his back on him. He buries Stygius’s point in the soil and sits at the edge of the Lethe to watch the ethereal waters billow against the shore like smoke.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Zagreus says.

Thanatos sounds cautious when he answers, “Not in so many words.” He doesn’t bridge the distance between them. Zagreus closes his eyes and remembers the wind on his face.

He’s felt it a scarce few times, but even if he never made it to the surface again, he wouldn’t ever forget it.

Quiet stretches between them, uncomfortable and unwieldy. Zagreus imagines that Than would pace, if his feet touched the ground.

Finally, Than breaks the silence with a frustrated sound. “If you won’t stand and fight then you’re wasting my time,” he snaps. The prickly tone disguises something deeper. “Unlike some of us, I have a job to do.”

Zagreus doesn’t ask him to stay. The two of them have long since unlearned how to navigate asking for what they want (if they were ever any good at it to begin with). He nods and runs his fingers over the cool, Elysian grass.

“It’s greener on the surface,” he hums almost dreamily. His own words startle a laugh from him. “Literally greener on the other side.” He can feel something shift, even though he isn’t even looking at Than.

“You did it,” Thanatos murmurs from behind him. “You escaped.”

Zagreus turns over his shoulder to look at him.

“I met her, Than. My mother.”

The expression that contorts Than’s face tips closer towards anguish than rage, even if the fury in his voice disguises it. “Then why are you _here_?!” He snarls. He drifts backwards as though burnt. “You got out! You got what you wanted. Why didn’t you stay gone?”

Zagreus wishes they could have had this conversation somewhere else—in the comfort of the lounge or the privacy of his bedroom. Somewhere besides this ghostly, inorganic field, penned in by death on all sides. In the next chamber, Asterius the Minotaur waits with his axe. Around the edges of Zag’s periphery, shades press their faces to the iron bars of the gate and pine for a chance at glory again.

Elysium, resting place of heroes, all without rest in the end.

He drops his gaze back to the water. (Only, it isn’t water. Not really. He’s seen what true, clear water looks like in the world above.) A bitter smile crosses his face. “Turns out I’m bound to this realm, same as my father.” He tosses a stone into the Lethe. It makes no sound as it disappears beneath the cloudy surface.

Finally, Than appears beside him. He lowers himself to sit. Were Zagreus not afraid of scaring him off entirely, he might tease Than for deigning to touch the lowly ground.

As it is, he’s grateful for the company.

“You died,” Than murmurs—not a question.

Zagreus nods. “In her garden, by the sea.” For years—longer, maybe—when Zagreus thought of the sea, he imagined the roiling magma of Asphodel, the infernal heat. He knows better now. He’s seen the sun—the _sun_ —kiss the crest of the water until the whole world was gilded by its light.

Thanatos chews his question, unable to look Zagreus in the eye. “Was she—” He starts, only to stumble. He clears his throat and stares at his lap. “Was it what you wanted?”

Sighing, Zagreus draws his knees up and rests his elbows on them. “I have so many questions, Than. And precious little time to ask them.”

Thanatos nods. “So, you fight your way to the surface again.”

“And again, and again.” Zagreus huffs a frustrated sigh. “All for five minutes with her.”

They sit in silence. The Lethe doesn’t burble like a stream but instead sighs like an open mouth. Zag never thought it odd until now.

“Are you alright?” Thanatos asks.

Zagreus hurls another stone into the Lethe. He sidesteps the question. “Father lied to us both. She thought I was dead.”

Thanatos stares down at his own lap. He wears an inscrutable expression, the kind Zagreus isn’t sure he’d have been able to read even when the two of them were at their best. Now? He can’t begin to guess at what it means.

He hates the distance between them. He hates that he has no idea how to bridge it.

“So, that’s why your father’s kept me so busy,” Than sighs. “I’m—sorry, Zag.”

Zagreus huffs a humorless laugh. He pillows his head against his arms and refuses to look at the man beside him. “What?” He asks, “No _I told you so_?” He swallows his own stubborn hurt. “You always said I belonged here. Looks like you were right.”

They both know Thanatos isn’t the one he’s angry at. Or at least, not really.

Zagreus sighs and lets go of the petty hurt as best he can. He bumps their shoulders together. “Where have you _been_?” He asks, although he supposes Than has already answered that question, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Errands,” Than sighs. He crosses his arms and tips back to stare at the stony, moss-covered ceiling. “Suddenly Lord Hades had a hundred—” He waves his hand. “Parcels that needed delivering.”

Zagreus manages a weak attempt at a smile. “Bet you wished you had winged feet.”

Huffing a sound that might just be a laugh, Than bumps his shoulder right back. “Hush,” he says.

Despite the fact that there is no night and day in the Underworld, despite the fact that they have nothing but time—an eternity of it—Zagreus can always feel the hurry when Thanatos needs to be somewhere else.

For all their immortality, the two of them never seem to have enough time.

Thanatos sighs and pins him with a look.

“I’m dutybound to your father, same as everyone else in this place.” He presses a centaur heart into Zagreus’s hands and a kiss to his temple. “But I’ll do what I can. You’ll see your mother again, Zag.”

It doesn’t escape him that Thanatos has nothing to gain and everything to lose by helping him. He catches Than’s wrist before he can pull away. For a moment, they hover in that space of _almost_ —their faces so near to one another that the yellow of Thanatos’s eyes eclipses all else.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, earnest and unguarded. He squeezes Than’s wrist. “I don’t take it for granted,” he promises. Suddenly self-conscious, he lets go and shifts backwards until there’s enough room to breathe again. The moment bursts like a soap bubble.

“It’s a shame you work for my father,” Zagreus jokes to break the tension, managing a teasing lilt to his voice despite everything left unsaid between them.

“A shame,” Than echoes. A rare, uncomplicated smile passes across his face. “Maybe someday soon, I’ll be working for you.”

And with that, he’s gone—the ring of a bell, a flash of cold light, and Zagreus is alone again. He delays getting to his feet. Instead, he basks in his moment of respite and lets his gaze fall over the rolling hills of Elysium.

It’s beautiful in its own way—a better place to while away eternity than Asphodel, that’s for certain. The blue grass and purple flora all but glow in the mists of the Lethe. But the place is damnably quiet.

Even in the chill of winter, the world above was—loud. Vibrant. The green of his mother’s garden was so bright, it almost hurt to look at.

The muted hues of Elysium are easy. Dim and desaturated. He understands now why Theseus and Asterius still fight, why the shades turn feral, why Patroclus sits despondent by the river. Even heroes have no future, here.

Compared to the small and simple beauty of the golden wheat outside his mother’s homestead, all the Underworld looks empty.

So, he stands. And he fights. For his mother. For his future. For a chance to feel the wind on his face again.


End file.
